Storm Warning
by ScenicSavvy
Summary: In a matter of minutes, Bella's entire life is thrown into a tailspin; witnessing the murder of someone she loved most, the strange sickness that follows, and being forced to pack her things and leave everything she once knew behind. The deeper she delves into the lives in Forks, she begins to realize that one man may know more about her past than even she does.
1. Afterlife's Attachment

A/N: Firstly, thank you for giving this story chance. I really hope you enjoy what you find here. Secondly, I need to give a little disclaimer; obviously I own nothing of this story and all rights remain in Stephanie Meyer's possession. Lastly, this is not a love triangle story between Bella, Edward and Jasper. If you were coming here hoping for that, I'm sorry to disappoint you. If you were weary of reading because of that, this is your lucky day. Sit back and enjoy, my friends, and review your little hearts out.

* * *

**_Afterlife's Attachment_**

My life is not perfect; not by a long shot. I've always felt out of place in Phoenix, even with my mother consistently pouring in efforts of making me fit in with everyone. She was never pushy, never demanding, and was always accepting of the way I was. I think, in her heart, she could tell that I wasn't truly happy in my surroundings unless I was with her. Over the years, she had become a crutch for me. She was the only person who would take me as I am and still appreciate me. My classmates, friends I never had, were the complete opposite. And my mother, being the complete optimist that she is, always thought there was some way to make me fit in, but I knew she was wrong. I would only ever "fit in" inside our tiny, broken family; just me and her. And I was perfectly okay with that.

On the night of January 2nd, after spending New Years alone but together, my mom and I decided to have what we considered our girls night out. We started the evening off going for iced coffee. Okay, she got iced coffee and I got regular coffee because I never understood the point of iced coffee. We had our usual debacle over this phenom that had plagued our country, iced coffee vs. regular coffee, and slowly made our way through the streets of Phoenix to the movies. I don't remember what movie we saw that night, but one detail stands out alone: it sucked. I mean, horrible. I remember leaving the theater half way through because it was that bad. But, in a futile effort to salvage the night, we picked a different movie and actually made it through this one. I couldn't tell you the name of that movie, either. The next sequence of events is all that stands out in my mind from that night.

My mom was cheery as we made our way home. The night air was typical Phoenix warm, I remember that. I remember the windows rolled down, The Eagles blasting through our radio and the thick, night air lighting a spark around us. It was the last time I ever felt really alive.

When we got home, everything looked normal. The lights were off; the front door was closed and locked like when we left it, not a thing was out of place inside, and no one could have ever predicted the events to follow.

I followed my mom inside, shutting the door behind me but not even thinking to lock it. That, I'll never forget. I dropped my bag on the sofa inside the living room while my mom plopped down and switched on the tv; the sounds of a Friends echoing gently through the house as I kissed the top of her head and left the room to take a shower. Our house was small, and we shared a bathroom. It was through the living room, down the hall and to the left. I was so close to her, only a few rooms over, and I heard the entire thing.

What I didn't hear was the front door open, and apparently neither did she. I was already in the shower, shampoo being washed out of my hair and conditioner being applied when my life spiraled out of control. There was a crash, it sounded like a vase breaking. I stopped, and pulled the shower curtain back to look at the closed bathroom door.

"Mom," I called. "Are you okay?"

There was a quiet, muffled sound coming from outside the bathroom, but I didn't get a reply. I wondered what she could possibly be doing; hopefully not playing some kind of a prank on me. My mom could be a jokester when she wanted to, especially for Aprils Fools.

"Could you give me an answer, please?" I called again, becoming exceedingly nervous.

This time: silence.

Despite the hot shower, I suddenly felt very cold. Something was wrong, I could feel it. It was like the air around me had shifted and I knew,_ I knew_, that this wasn't right. I turned the water off and wrapped myself in a towel. Water dripped off my body as I hastily opened the bathroom door and started down the hall. A trail of blood was the first thing I noticed in my line of sight.

It was bright red, staining our wood floor, and it wasn't a small trail; it looked as if an animal carcass had been dragged across our living room floor. My entire body went numb, and I suddenly couldn't take a step further. I couldn't speak. I couldn't think. I could only see, and all I saw was crimson.

A sound from the kitchen made my entire body jump. My heartbeat raced, reminding myself that this was real and I was, in fact, still alive. My hands were shaking as I held the towel in place. I took a slow step forward, trying not to slip on the floor that was now wet thanks to me. When I reached the end of the hallway, and the living room came into full view, everything got worse.

Blood wasn't just leading a trail to the kitchen, it was everywhere; a line splattered on the wall, on the couch, in the floor in front of the couch. I sucked in a sharp breath and clamped my hand over my mouth, stifling a sob. I wanted to call out to my mom again, but I didn't have the courage. My fear of whose blood this was had overtaken me, and a silent reply from her would've been enough to do me in.

The noises from the kitchen were strange. They were low, quiet sounds, but almost sounded like… slurping. That was when my fear eased up a little; my mom had to be playing a joke on me. I would walk into the kitchen and she'd be sitting on the counter with a smile plastered on her face.

The more I told myself this, the more I knew I was lying.

I stepped over the blood, keeping my eyes on my surroundings, and made my way to the archway that leads into the kitchen. I paused and listened. The sounds were louder as I got closer. This is where the blood trail led and the sounds were coming from; this is where my mother was. I craned my neck around the corner and peered inside, and before I could stop myself I let out a bloodcurdling scream and stumbled backwards so quickly that I slipped and fell.

I tried to move, roll over and run, but the image kept replaying in my head. My mom was lying on the kitchen floor in a pile of blood, her body savagely mangled and twisted. And above her, in all dark clothing, was a man… a man whose head was buried in her neck. And when I screamed, he shot up like lightning; his mouth and face covered with her blood and his eyes red as a burning fire.

I willed myself to move; get up, roll over, run, call 911, anything. But I just lay there on the ground, still screaming, completely numb, and lost. My body stopped functioning. I forgot how to move, I just remembered how to lie there and scream.

I remember only two more things before I black out entirely and wake up the next day in the hospital; the first is this man, this thing, rounding the corner and setting his eyes on me… And then he attacks.

The last thing is less of a memory, because it's hazy and blurry probably from my own loss of blood; but just as death seemed imminent, a man appeared. I remember his touch, nothing else, because his fingers were cool and strong, and he touched my face just as I lost consciousness.

When I woke up a day later and sitting across from me in the hospital was the last person I ever expected; my mom's brother, Charlie. Charlie had a strong dislike of me from a very early age, and an even stronger dislike of my mother, but I knew why he was here. He was my only living relative left. Which meant one terrible thing; I was going to have to move in with him.

I wanted to cry then; not physically, but mentally. I thought crying would make me feel better, but I was still numb. I couldn't even muster up a tear despite my efforts. I just felt… cold. A piercing cold throughout my entire body, from my hair follicles to my fingernails; all I felt was cold. It was a new, unexplainable sensation that I instantly hated. Then, my first coughing fit began. It started slow, a quiet cough so low it didn't even wake Charlie from his sleep. But after a minute, it turned into a full fledge choking, whooping cough. Charlie sat up abruptly, his dark eyes angry. He moved a bit in his seat and kept his eyes on me, but never made direct eye contact and never said a word to me.

After a few minutes, the coughing subsided and I could catch my breath. I inhaled and exhaled deeply and slowly, leaning my head back on my pillow. I didn't feel sick. I just felt, well, I didn't. I didn't feel anything.

I ended up staying in the hospital for another day. After a short while, Charlie left and went back to his hotel room. He didn't return until I checked out. The coughing fits continued, but the doctors had to let me go because they couldn't find anything physically wrong with me. Doctors and police officers alike had asked what happened to me, but I couldn't remember. I couldn't remember being attacked, but I remember my mother. I remembered seeing her lying on the floor, covered in blood and that man standing over her like she was nothing but a dead animal; that much, I would never forget.


	2. Beastly Blunder

A/N: Two chapters in a few hours, hallelujah! It may take a little while for everything to click together, but the pieces of the story will all fall into place in due time. Reviews get me to writing!

* * *

**_Beastly Blunder_**

_One month earlier - Edward's POV_

Everything was wrong. This wasn't what we'd planned, and we hadn't screwed anything up this badly in a long, long time. We were smarter than this. We were fucked.

When Emmett, Jasper and I took our usual hunting trip, everything started off going according to plan. We were somewhere in California, in the mountains where we were less likely to be spotted. It had been an overdue trip, and Emmett, being the starving bear that he is, was so worried about over-feeding that he convinced us to travel across all of Washington and Oregon to feed. This led us to somewhere in northern California. We traveled quickly, feeding almost constantly but never in the same place. We took turns; Emmett would feed on the first animal we spotted, and then we'd travel. Jasper would feed on the second animal we found, and then we'd travel further. I would feed on the third, and then we'd continue. This was our routine. This was balance.

We had never gone so far as to end up in California, and I think that's where I problem begins. We were in unfamiliar terrain and unknowingly unprepared. And what was worse, I was beginning to like the scenery. The woods were desolate and quiet, and the mountains gave me a sense of relaxation. But of course, all good things must come to an end.

It was Jasper's turn to feed, and it didn't take us long to find something to quench his thirst. We happened across a large bear. It towered over all three of us, but could in no way actually inflict harm on us. Realistically, the bear didn't have a chance in hell.

Before we could attack, I saw the blood on the bear. It's muzzle and paws covered in it, and no sooner than I saw it did I smell it.

"It's covered in human blood," I said in a low voice.

The bear growled, and I took a step back, scanning the area around us. Human blood obviously meant humans, and they weren't known to venture through the woods alone. A loud roar echoed through my ears and I glared over at Emmett and Jasper.

"Finish this thing, I'll try to find the people," I shouted.

If it weren't for the trickle of blood, it would've been difficult. I wasn't a tracker, neither were Jasper and Emmett. As a matter of fact, we were probably the worst trackers known to the vampire coven. Alas, the blood trail led me to a small clearing wherein lay three bodies. Two of them were so shredded I couldn't tell if they were female or male, but the third was identifiable and alive, barely.

The overwhelming smell of hot, human blood flooded my nostrils and I twisted my hands into fists at my side. I should've thought this through better. I can withhold myself from killing, even stop myself at the sight of fresh blood, but this bloody massacre was proving to be too much for me. Lucky for me, just as I was backing away, Emmett and Jasper were behind me.

I pressed my hand to my nose, trying to block all entry for the smell. I couldn't do it. I wanted them, all of them, even the one that was still breathing; especially the one that was still breathing. Jasper braced a hand on my shoulder and stepped around me. The man on the ground made a pitiful sound, that of a dying dog. His eyes found us and he lifted a bloody hand in our direction, begging.

"We can't leave him here," whispered Jasper.

I clenched my jaw, not even trusting myself enough to open my mouth. Emmett must have been feeling it right along with me because he didn't speak either. His face was a hard mask next to us. Then Jasper, who'd always had a compassion for humans, took a step forward. I reached out instantly and grabbed his arm. I shook my head when he looked back at me, but he pulled his arm away.

"We'll take him back to Carlisle, it'll be okay," Jasper said, always being the optimist.

No, this was a bad idea. Truck an injured human across a state and a half? Hell no. I ran a hand roughly through my hair and grit my teeth, deciding I had to speak up.

"Jas-" I started. My muscles tensed and the smell of the blood overwhelmed me once again. "No. Fucking bad idea."

But Jasper didn't hear me because he was already next to the dying man, talking to him. His voice was low and promising. And then, before either Emmett or I could stop him, he plunged his teeth into the man's neck.

This was all the incentive Emmett and I needed to forget our thirst. In a matter of seconds, we were dragging Jasper off the guy and pulling him away; far away. We fought with Jasper for about a half a mile before he calmed down. Even this far away, the smell of the blood was still burning my nose. Jasper was livid.

"We have to go back!" he shouted.

"Are you fucking crazy?" I asked with a shove to his shoulders. "You can't just change anyone on the street. Shit, Jasper. Use your fucking brain. What are we supposed to do now?"

"We take him back to Carlisle!"

My voice came out in a low growl, "We can't carry a goddamn newborn across two states."

"Looks like we don't have a choice now," Spoke Emmett angrily.

I turned quickly and my fist struck the closest tree nearby, etching in the shape of my knuckles on the bark. This couldn't be happening.

"Guys, we don't know how quickly he'll change. It could take him days or a week; everybody reacts differently to the change. You don't know that he changed that quick!" Jasper said pleadingly.

Emmett and I glared at him, but we agreed that especially now, we couldn't just leave him here. His change was inevitable, no matter how quickly or slow it happened. We recounted our footsteps back to where we found the bodies, Jasper in the lead. He caused this, it was his problem. Only, when we got back it became everyone's problem because the man was gone.

We spent hours trying to track him, but there was no trail of blood, no human scent, nothing. This was all Jasper's fault. Thanks to him, there was a thirsty newborn on the hunt and we had no idea where to find him. He just jeopardized our entire coven, and for what? Shit. Nothing. Sundown was approaching and we realized the best hope we had was getting home to Carlisle, and even that was a longshot.

It took us all night and until lunchtime the next day to get home, even running. We hadn't made it home in time to catch Carlisle before he left work early that morning, so all we could do was wait until he got home that evening. This wasn't exactly a bomb we could drop in the middle of the hospital. I took a seat on the couch, still fuming at Jasper, and switched on the tv to the news in search of any mysterious killings that may have happened overnight. However, there was nothing.

A few hours after we got home, Jasper's girlfriend, Alice, came over. We all knew it was risky, Jasper and Emmett both dating humans, but I gave up objected a while ago even though I still thought it was stupid as hell. I kept to myself; didn't mingle with anyone.

Alice could tell there was tension in the house, I could read that on her face five minutes after she arrived. She followed Jasper up to his room and there was a soft click as the door shut behind them. Knowing her, she was probably grilling him about why we all had attitudes today. I didn't care. She got on my nerves anyway. At least Rosalie wasn't with her; I knew I couldn't handle the both of them together today.

Carlisle came home for a late lunch shortly after Alice arrived. I cornered him in the kitchen, quietly filling him in on the events over the weekend. Like I'd figured, he was as pissed as we were, but he promised to take care of the situation. I didn't know what he was expecting, but it damn sure wasn't the results he got in the end.

_Present – Bella's POV_

The flight to Forks was long and miserable. I sat next to Charlie who didn't speak and didn't look at me. Since we left the hospital, he hadn't said anything to me. Part of me hoped life would continue like this; Charlie ignoring that I existed in the first place. It was better, to me, that the things he could say to me. It was on the plane ride that the chills began. I gripped the arm rests of my seat tightly, feeling goose bumps pepper my skin. I felt hot and cold at the same time, and I could feel myself breaking out in a sweat. I closed my eyes, confused at my body, and willed it to stop. I felt lightheaded and slightly sick. After a few minutes, I decided this was the result of flying; I had a severe fear of heights. But when I got to Forks, things progressively got worse.

The first night in Charlie's house was excruciating. I was exhausted, mentally and physically; the image of my mother permanently stained behind my eyelids. I wanted desperately to sleep, but I couldn't. And the chills, God, the chills, continued. Without warning, the cold would overtake and then a second later I'd be burning up, and then I'd be freezing again and sweating the entire time. Fumbling my way to the bathroom, I slammed the door, locked it and pressed my back against it. I ran my hands roughly across my face, my fingernails gently digging into my on flesh and silently begging for the chills to stop. They were worse than the cough. I stripped down quickly and turned on the shower, the water scalding. I got inside and was able to stand for only a minute or two before giving up and just sitting in the bathroom floor and letting the water stream over my head.

Then, I started to shake. The tremors started in my shoulders and worked their way down to my hands, past my hands and to my legs, and ended at my feet. My whole body trembled, quickly changing from hot to cold, cold to hot. I sat with my head between my legs and began coughing again. I inhaled deeply, trying to catch my breath, and got a lung full of steam from the hot water. I hastily reached around and shut off the water, still gasping for air. Slinging the shower curtain back, I slipped and stumbled out of the bathtub and over to the window, shoving it open quickly. The cold air of Forks immediately nipped my bare, wet flesh and brought on even worse tremors, but I could breathe. My hands shook as I braced them against the window pane and tried to steady myself. I tried to think clearly but my head was pounding furiously.

"What is happening to me?" I whispered weakly.

I fumbled for a towel and wrapped myself up. As I made my way to the door, I paused at the glass over the sink and wiped the steam away with a shaky hand. My reflection looked terrible. My face was glowingly pale, but I had black and blue bags under my bloodshot eyes. My lips were stark white and my cheeks looked sunken in. When was the last time I had eaten? Maybe that was my problem. I rubbed a wet hand across my face and dragged my feet across the floor as I made my way out of the bathroom. The bedroom Charlie had given me was small, but I had no other choice than to take it. The reality of the situation, losing my mother and everything, hadn't hit me yet, but it would. Eventually.

I dressed in jeans and an oversized sweatshirt. Charlie had been ever so kind as to pack a few clothes for me after the doctors decided that it wasn't in my best interest to return to my house myself. Of course, he'd packed hardly anything but I would worry about that later. I made my way silently downstairs, but Charlie had already left for work. I sat at the kitchen table, rested my elbows on the flat surface and put my face in my hands. Another surge of emotion swept over me and I needed to cry. I needed it badly, but I couldn't. I physically couldn't muster a single tear, and I hated myself for it. My mother just died, why couldn't I cry? I should be hysterical. I pushed my small fists into the sockets of my eyes, trying to force tears out, but nothing came.

Frustrated and angry, I kicked back from the kitchen table, the chair I was seated in toppling over behind me. I began to pace. Alone, in this quiet, new house, all the events began to flood back in and for a moment I wasn't in Charlie's kitchen… I was in my kitchen in Phoenix and my mom was in the floor and that monster with the red eyes was looking up at me from her dead body. I lost all sense of reality. For a moment, I actually thought I saw them in Charlie's kitchen floor. I stumbled backwards, stifling a scream and tripping over my knocked over chair. I hit the floor with a thud and desperately pushed my body across the floor until my back hit the refrigerator. I pulled my knees up to my chest, closed my eyes as tightly as I possibly could, and hid my face. I don't know how long I sat like that, pathetically crippled on the floor in house that I didn't belong in, but when I finally pulled my head up from my knees I could hear Charlie's keys in the front door and the creak as he wrenched it open. There was a jingle as he dropped his keys on a desk by the door and then hung up his coat. I didn't bother even moving from the floor; I just sat there like I had all day and trembled, sweated and coughed.

At first, Charlie didn't notice me, and maybe he'd forgotten about me. But when turned around to open the fridge he looked down as his feet to see what he'd just kicked with his foot and his face twisted like he was seeing me for the first time all over again.

"What are you doing in the floor?" He asked in a low voice.

I couldn't even speak. I just pulled myself onto my knees and then onto my feet and made the quickest exit I could. Before I'd hit the stairs, I heard his voice calling me. "You start school tomorrow, bright and early."

He almost sounded happy about it and knowing mine and my mother's relationship with him, he was probably very happy about it and not for a single good reason. The trembles that I had on the way up the stairs this time weren't from the cold, and weren't from whatever was making me sick.


End file.
